Blue Iris
by semicolonial
Summary: The most delicate flowers are sensitive to the coldest ice, and the blue iris, symbolizing love and hope, falls victim to the snow. Oneshot. Onesided Ema x Iori. Reviews are appreciated.


It's all _wrong_. Her eyes searching his, boring in expectation as they wait for his response.

And his response should be smiling down at her with a nod, or sweeping her off her feet with a gentle kiss to convey his feelings for her. But he can't.

And it's wrong.

Her gaze is desperate now, and her brow furrows as she drops her stare. Her voice rings soft as petals, painful as flames for her to say. That voice could once bring him to his knees, strip him of insincerity, warm him to his core, but instead, as they speak his name, they wrap like a freezing vice around his heart, cold and biting.

"Iori?"

His head snaps once as he hears her address him again.

"Iori. Can you... would you be able to return my feelings?"

There are millions of things he can say to her. Out of respect for the time they'd known each other, he can let her down with an apology, or explain to her that his time waiting had reached its end before her feelings had begun to bud. And in a way, he does. But his gentle nature fails him, and a shade casts over his eyes, his voice falling flat into emotionless ice. His tone betrays the apology of his words.

"I'm sorry. But I don't feel that way anymore."

Her body seems to collapse in on itself, her form hunching as her hands draw close to her chest. _Anymore_. The word ricochets in her mind, taunting viciously as she comes to one conclusion.

Iori loved her.

Loved.

But not love.

Her eyes slip closed to drive out the image of his form, smooth and unfeeling as a statue. She can feel his gaze on her, imagine his hands in his pockets as the warm night air weighs in around them.

"Anymore?" her voice is small.

"Anymore." his reply is short.

"You..." she can't bring herself to say the words, instead biting her lip as one hand forcefully tugs her sleeve downward. Her figure wilts smaller, dragging itself down with the weight of his implications and with her unspoken question hanging in the air, suspended by nothing but a thread waiting to snap.

"Loved you. I loved you."

The thread snaps. And his words shatter her heart.

"I did love you. But I can't say I do anymore. That would be a cruel lie. And perhaps it's better that I don't; you deserve someone patient, someone who will wait for you, and I simply got tired of waiting."

And she knows it's true; her stare catches his, and she sees nothing.

She's never quite known true heartbreak before; she'd never been in love until him. It had happened slowly, numbing her senses till she didn't realize she was falling for him.

But how could she have realized that _he_ was falling out of love with _her_?

"You got tired of waiting?" her question is aimed more toward herself, a weak attempt to grasp what he had just told her.

"Yes. I never thought you would feel anything toward me, so I gave up."

"And now..."

"I feel nothing. I'm sorry."

His apology feels more of a joke to her than anything. His words, usually flowers to her wanting ears, are stone.

"I understand," she begins, "and thank you for being honest with me. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble."

A flicker of hope ignites within her as she sees his eyes light with sympathy, but dies as his expression leaves as soon as it had come.

"Thank you. I know it must be hard for you, but I can't force myself to feel something I don't. I hope you find it in yourself to move on quickly."

Tears brim on her eyes, and once more he wills himself to feel something. Wills himself to take back his words, to fall to her knees and beg her forgiveness for his hurting her. He plunges deep into everything he feels for her, everything he's felt for her, but again, he surfaces empty. He can't remember what it felt like to love her, or what it felt like to leave flowers outside her door every morning. He can't remember the warmth she unknowingly wrapped him in every day, or the way his heart lightened to see her smile.

All he knows is his unyielding cold.

Her first tear falls like snow settling over blue irises.

* * *

 **HARU THIS ONE'S FOR YOU**

 **anybody else wanna board the unpopular ship train? the valentine's episode got me into it, and now i can't stop. i think i'm gonna go write something fun now ;v;**


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